


Universe Express

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gen, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 04:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8043070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: Jensen holds him like letting go would mean losing him.





	Universe Express

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't. A fic. This is something else. This is. Here solely because I need to get things off me. 
> 
> Take them off me.

* * *

 

Jensen holds him like letting go would mean losing him. He's stuck there, shaking, with the world trembling underneath them and everything that came before flashing across his vision like a movie on fast forward. The day they met, the hint of gold circling the nervous wide pupils on what back then felt like judgement day, and then yesterday, the warmth of Jared's laughter, the way he bent over to catch his breath. His bare feet in the morning when they still lived together - his unfocused eyes, hand gripping his injured shoulder, mouth forming apologies and "it's alright, it's okay, don't worry, it doesn't hurt" despite his pale complexion and gasping breaths. His smile, and the way he cries; the blood pouring out of his open wrist, the bitter smell of vomit on the floor.

It's autumn, and Jensen doesn't know what to do. He's just sitting there, unable to move, unable to think, helpless, alone, holding his best friend whose body is trembling violently, bleeding. Outside, the last flowers are withering in the cold, and Vancouver pulses like a living organ so far out of reach that it could as well exist outside planet Earth. In here, everything's silent.

 _I need you_ , Jared said, and Jensen rushed out of his bed and across the space between their trailers, wishing there was only one to begin with so that he would have always been right there.

 _I'm sorry_.

He's quiet now; warm in Jensen's hold, breathing - still breathing. The father of two, brother of two, son of two, husband of one, best friend of Jensen's, friend of countless others. Thinking, somehow, he's not worth that, of any of it; that he doesn't deserve it. That this was a solution: to go quietly while no one's watching. Pills, pills, pills, and in the haze of it, to run the bent razor over his wrist. The first cut was long but nowhere near deep enough - the second shorter, but wide like an open mouth. There's blood everywhere: on him, on Jensen, on the floor, on the kitchen counter, mixed together with the clumps of half-digested poison in the liquid vomit on the floor. The stench of alcohol is fading. He hiccups and stops breathing for long enough for Jensen to hold him tighter.

_As if holding him would..._

Jensen closes his eyes and sees himself braiding Jared's hair. The boat rocks underneath them, the lake around them, and his fingers are tingling nervously.

"You think I can do it?" he's asking, and Jared lets out that dry but warm laughter.

"'course you can. Look at me," he says, "If I can do it, you can do it. You'll be a good father. Trust me."

Jensen looks at him and his stomach twists. He's smaller now. Pale, with his dark hair caught in the layer of sweat over his features.

_... keep him alive._

They're breathing in unison now. Short, struggling breaths, as if they're tied to a single pair of lungs, or a machine that's malfunctioning. Inhale, exhale. The world is still shaking and Jensen wants to yell at it. Wants to throw something. Wants to cry.

He barely remembers when he first knew it. Recalling small things from before that moment is easier: the things he thought about after he knew they stood out. The silences. The tired looks. The depth behind Jared's eyes even when he smiled on those days. But not yesterday. Yesterday was good. Yesterday was - bright. Light. He was excited, hard-working, easy-going, warm, radiant like the sun. Joking around, relaxed. Affectionate. Touch-starved. Needy. Attention-seeking.

Jensen presses a kiss amongst his hair and closes his eyes.

They're on a stage; on a thousand stages. The night is the rumbling of an audience, two thousand faces who love them. Love them. Love them. Idolize them. Worship them. Laugh at them, laugh with them, love them. Hate them. Need them. And Jared's sitting at the table next to his, separated by a few feet of carpeted floor; smiling, laughing, then falling very quiet, nodding. And Jensen's watching him, watching the connection between him and this stranger, this small-tall-bony-heavy-pretty-average-unique-normal-looking stranger, like he's depending on her, on his, every word. How he's breathing them, experiencing the moment through them, with them. And then they're at the photos again: together, separate. He's watching them, watching Jared, watching Jared with himself, both of them under the bright flashing lights, watching from the doorway, from the back of the room. Jared's smiles, his hugs, tight and light, the hugs that are more like embraces, the hugs that are meant to tease, the grins, the silly poses, the prancing around, the way you'd never know the weight upon him looking at him here. Jensen knows it. He's been through it so many times. The nights when he gets a call at a late hour - _I need you_ is all it says - and the next morning he's smiles and endless patience again, the spark within him flickering weakly.

_But he's always -_

The stench of blood is overwhelming when the breeze moves in through the open door. Jensen breathes it in and lets it consume him.

_\- made it through._

Sometimes, they've been carved from the same flesh. They've fought, too. God, Jared knows how to be a piece of shit. Jensen knows it, too. Knows how to get under his skin. They love each other more, though. Too much to let that come between them. They've drank wine together hating every second of it, then hugged tight to end the night, loved each other all the more for it in the morning.

 _I'm sorry_ , he said. So many times.

 _I love you_. _I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you._

He's weak and cold now. There are people around them: flashes of red and blue. Voices don't come across right to Jensen, so he holds tighter still.

Jared is - is an enigma. A mirror that shows reflection on both sides, reflecting you, reflecting, capturing, captivating. A layer of glass upon a layer of something else. Flesh, blood, bone, tied up to create a man who doesn't quite fit in his skin. Brave and strong upon vulnerable and insecure; tall and firm upon gentle and careful. Extroverted upon introverted - laughter covering up timidness, fear. He doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, no, he's nothing _but_ a beating, exposed core there for anyone to read, judge, love or hate. He's got no skin, no shield, no protection. And Jensen holds him more firmly once more. Feels his pulse against his arm. Scared little beats drumming ceaselessly within him.

He's soft like this, too. His hair is everywhere and he smells so much like himself Jensen doesn't quite believe that any of this is real. He closes his eyes again. Thinks back to waking up beside this man, waking up to work every damn morning to see this man, waking up and just knowing he's there, across the parking lot or across the street or just across a few inches of mattress whenever it was shared. He's not sure where his skin spearates them, or if they just share one together. One body, two hearts; they've been so close for such a long while that the difference doesn't seem to register anymore. He is Jared's heartbeat and Jared is his. There is no one without the other. There is no world without Jared. Where his world ends, Jensen's ceases to exist too.

When Jensen opens his eyes, he leans over just enough to see Jared's. Just blue-green now, staring vaguely towards the parking lot, the lights. Some tears still drawing a bright line on the underside, dark long lashes in clumps. The black spot over his bandaged wrist is slowly but surely growing larger. Jensen tried his best.

God, he did everything he could.

He presses his face into Jared's hair and kisses him somewhere over the rim of his ear and the mess of his wet hair.

_I've got you, brother._

Clif's there. Holding Jensen's arm, trying to get them to separate. Jensen feels like he's smiling at him and he's certainly saying something - "I'm good, I'm alright, could you please call Danneel for me?" - and then it all just comes crashing down, and he's crying, and Jared's fingers wrap a little tighter around his fist. They're still bundled up together when the paramedics are there, and Jensen doesn't know how to become anything else again. He struggles to separate, then walks with them, helps Jared take each step forwards. People are talking. Lights are still flashing. The parking area looks strange like this, foreign, even though he's spent the past decade on this same lot and would know his way around it blindfolded. Not in these lights, though. Now he's as lost as Jared seems to be. Not quite sure how to aim for the source of the lights, and the thought of just taking off - escaping - crosses his mind. But not alone. He looks at Jared and Jared closes his eyes to escape his gaze and he's smiling a little, that horrible, broken smile Jensen's only seen once or twice before.

"I'm coming with."

He's already climbing into the ambulance and it's not like anyone could or seemingly would stop him, either. Jared holds onto him as if afraid they'll take him anyway. Someone asks Jensen if he was the one who bandaged him; compliments him on the job, says it made a big difference. Jensen nods. He's nauseous. The world just won't stop spinning.

They sit together in the ambulance, hand in hand, Jared's head lolling against Jensen's shoulder through the ride. There are no windows to watch the world pass by but Jensen feels like they're going through a very long tunnel that extends through the entire universe, through everything that he's ever known or will know. He knows he should feel calmer now; Jared won't slip away here, not with all these strangers watching. It does nothing, however. There's a sense of emptiness and dread that has caught onto him and latched on, grown roots and buried its claws so deep within him he's not sure he'll ever recover. He hears his best friend sigh and sees him close his eyes, and for one more time, he pulls Jared a little bit closer.

So that he doesn't slip away through his fingers.

So that he'll stay another day.

Just one more.

Two more.

Three.

"I love you," he speaks against Jared's forehead, lips moving against his sticky skin.

Jared nods slowly. He holds a little tighter, too.

 


End file.
